I heard about Harry Potter for my entire life. As a very young child, my father would come home and talk about a day at the Ministry, and if something bad had come up that had to do with the Dark Lord, he would always say, "Thank goodness for Harry Potter, don't know where we'd be without that boy." When I got a little older, I learned to say the line "But thank goodness for Harry Potter!" instead of Dad, at which he and Mum chuckled.

When I was around six, I learned what he did that made him so famous. (That made me like him even more!) I drew pictures of what I thought he might look like, based on pictures I had seen of his parents, and put them all over my wall. I had a huge celebrity crush on him, and sometimes in my daydreams he was fighting You-Know-Who just for me. Sometimes I even had daydreams about us getting married and having babies. My pictures would always wink and blow kisses at me, and I'd giggle at them. I'll admit it, sometimes I even kissed them back.

When Ron was ten, I heard Dad saying to him, "You do say hello to Harry for me, won't you, when you get to school?"

"Harry who?" asked Ron.

"Harry Potter, of course," said Arthur. "He's about your age, Ron."

"I will," muttered Ron, his ears turning pink.

"You're going to meet Harry Potter?" I said enviously.

"There's no need to be jealous, Gin," said Fred.

"Yeah, he won't be stupid enough to go and make friends with a git like Ickle Wonnikins," George added. The twins laughed.

"Now, that's enough, boys," snapped Mum, serving them all lunch.

But I was jealous of Ron, incredibly jealous. Despite what the twins had told me, I wondered whether maybe he would make friends with Harry. My freckles turned green at the mere thought. Then I wondered whether Harry would go to my house if that happened; after all, Fred and George went to Lee Jordon's house sometimes during the summer holidays. And they went to their friend Angelina's house sometimes too… I giggled at this thought, wondering whether Ron would get a "girlfriend", as I so often accused George of. He blushed every time that I insisted he was "in love" with Angelina, and claimed he wasn't, which Fred then joked was a lie.

When Ron went to Hogwarts, I wanted to go, too. "It's not fair," I complained. "I want to go this year!"

Then there was that boy that we helped get onto the platform. I remember thinking that he was very handsome, especially the way his hair stuck up in the back. I still wished that I could meet Harry Potter— just meet him, even if I couldn't go to Hogwarts with him.

And then, when we got through the platform, Fred and George came bounding off the train…

"Mum! Mum! You know that boy we helped get through to the platform? The one with the glasses and the black hair? Know who he is, Mum? He's Harry Potter!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was lucky I even remained conscious.

"How did you know?" asked Ron.

"Asked him. Saw his scar."

"Poor boy," said Mum, "I wondered why he was alone. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get on to the platform."

"Never mind that, d'you reckon he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Mum became very stern. "I forbid you to ask him, Fred! That boy has gone through enough pain and trouble already!"

"Oh, Mum, Mum," I said, finally able to speak again, "can I go on the train and see him, Mum? Can I, can I?"

"Heavens, no," Mum had said, to my great disappointment, "the boy's not a creature to be ogled at in a zoo!"

That was the first time I saw Harry Potter. I thought it might be the last, too.